Infatuation
by carameltootsieroll
Summary: Unrequited love is painful, but Stiles isn't ready to give up on Lydia just yet. Snippets of their friendship from third grade to junior year.
1. Reverie --- 3rd Grade

_**A/N:**_** Hi friends! So, I have recently gotten into TEEN WOLF and I have been wanting to write this chapter ever since I finished Season 1! But alas, school always has a way of getting into my writing schedule. Grrrrr. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the first chapter of this fic!**

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ **I do not own Teen Wolf, nor any of the characters from the said show. Booohooo me :( **

Butterflies in his stomach. Weak knees. Clammy hands. Short, sharp, almost painful breaths. _Stiles, concentrate on the game! _

"Stiles?" Scott's voice echoed across the field as he tried to call his best friend.

_Maybe if I close my eyes and turn in the other direction, I won't see her, and if I don't see _her_, maybe this weird feeling will go away._

"Stiles? Earth to Stiles?"

_Breathe, Stiles, breathe. _She _isn't in your sight; the weird feeling should go away now._

"STILES STILINSKI! WATCH OUT!

Too late. The ten-year-old felt something hit the back of his head, and the next thing he was aware of was the bitter taste of dirt in his mouth.

"Whoa, you okay, dude?"

Stiles groaned and spat the mud out of his mouth. He was vaguely aware of Scott's sudden appearance by his side. "Yeah, yeah," he waved his best friend off. "I'm okay."

"You just spaced out back there," Scott said. "I don't think it's wise to space out at the dodgeball playing field."

Stiles passed a hand over his face. His vision was blurry from falling face-first onto the ground. "Yeah, of course I know it isn't wise to space out while playing dodgeball," he muttered. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Scott seemed to find this funny. "Actually, sometimes I do."

"Just help me up, please," Stiles murmured. He ignored the snickers from the boys on the playing field. Not that their jeers ever really got to him in the first place; Stiles was used to getting into situations like this, his impulsiveness and stubbornness usually being the main culprits. But oddly, they weren't the cause of his embarrassing situation today. He had spaced out because he had gotten…distracted.

"Asthma attack, Stilinski?" Jackson teased. "Maybe you should borrow your friend's inhaler! Or maybe, you should just join him on the benches!" Jackson's friends laughed but Stiles turned a deaf ear to them. There was no use wasting his time on jerks like Jackson.

"Um, dude?" Scott said. "I think you _should_ sit down for a while." He frowned, pointing to Stiles' forehead.

"What?"

"You're bleeding," Scott replied. "Maybe you can go to the nurse first. I'll take your place on the field."

"You? On the field? Scott, you could get an asthma att – "

"Hey," a girl's voice interrupted. "Do you need a band-aid?"

Stiles felt his entire body go rigid. The _feeling_ made its grand return and he would have collapsed back onto the ground if it hadn't been for Scott's holding him up.

"What in the world is wrong with you, Stiles?" Scott hissed. Stiles was dying to know the answer to that question as well. What was wrong with him? Why was he so distracted? What did the clammy hands, weak knees and butterflies in his stomach mean?

Stiles gulped and forced himself to turn around.

It was _her_. The new girl. What was her name again? Stiles felt like running back to the field just to have his head hit by a dodgeball again. Maybe he'd remember her name and he wouldn't have to feel so stupid attempting to converse with a girl he didn't even know the name of.

"I-uh-um…." Stiles stammered. "Yes, I'm bleeding but… no, I am fine!"

Scott raised an eyebrow at his best friend. _What the hell?_

The girl pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow too. "Well, if fine means blood dripping down your forehead and into your eyes, then I guess you are very fine indeed."

"Uhhhh…" Stiles blinked, and sure enough, blood had started to drip down his eyebrows and into his eyes. Gross. Very gross. Stiles did not like blood. He did not like blood, even his own. He did _not _like blood. He stumbled again, but Scott steadied him. "I'm okay," Stiles murmured weakly.

The girl rolled her eyes and reached out to take hold of Stiles' arm. "That's it. I'm taking you to the nurse. You're probably another victim of heat stroke. You're exhibiting the symptoms. Faintness, light-headedness, loss of awareness," the girl rattled on. The boys exchanged glances. This girl seemed to be smarter than most other ten-year-olds in the field of first aid and emergencies.

"I suggest that _you,_" the girl said, motioning towards Scott. "Get back on the field and finish the game for Mr. Heatstroke. Wouldn't want coach screaming his head off at the rest of the team just because of this incident, right?

Scott shrugged back at his friend, offering a small smile before running back towards the field.

_Great_, Stiles thought. Now he was stuck with _her_.

"The name's Lydia, by the way," the girl said. She pushed a strand of her hair behind her ears. Stiles drew in a breath. Man, her hair was pretty under the sunlight. He stared for a few seconds, wondering if her hair was _really_ on fire, or just a product of his deranged imagination.

Lydia cleared her throat.

"Oh, hi Lydia. Um, I'm Stiles," he said, trying to keep his voice from quivering.

"Stiles," Lydia repeated. "Interesting name." She started walking and Stiles suddenly felt like his feet were glued to the ground. He could only follow her with his eyes, and his muscles refused to move.

Lydia stopped and turned around. "_Stiles,_" she enunciated, "I thought we were going to the nurse?"

"Oh, um, sorry," Stiles murmured and jogged to catch up with her. "I just got distracted."

"Distracted?" Lydia glanced over her shoulder to look at him. She was actually a few inches taller than Stiles; he had never noticed. Curse early puberty in girls. Her height difference hurt him, making him feel like he was an annoying little brother being led to the school clinic.

"Yeah," Stiles murmured. He glanced down at his shoes, hoping Lydia couldn't see the blush he felt on his cheeks.

"Well, I suggest that you snap out of your reverie because right after the nurse fixes you up, she would probably send you back out on the field. Wouldn't want part two of that nasty cut on your forehead, right?" Lydia said.

"Reverie?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Reverie. It means 'daydream'."

Stiles huffed, suddenly feeling defensive. "Well, I don't reverie-ing."

Lydia tilted her head to the side and laughed. "It's a _noun_, you dummy. You don't say reverie-ing. What are you day dreaming of anyway?"

Stiles glanced over at the girl walking beside him. The sun still illumined her light hair so that it looked almost golden. "Nothing," Stiles lied.

At that moment, another drop of blood fell from his forehead and onto his shoes. He gulped and tried not to feel nauseated. He hated, hated, hated blood.

Lydia seemed to notice his reaction. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out tissue. "Wipe," she instructed. But when Stiles reached down for his shoes, she yelled, "No, dummy! Your forehead!"

So he did, and stuffed the now dirty tissue in his pocket. "How do you even seem so calm at a time like this?" he asked.

Lydia shrugged. "I'm trained in first aid. It's essential."

"Well," Stiles continued. "You know what? You're pretty smart for a blonde." As soon as the sentence was out of his mouth, he felt regret punch him in the stomach. He hadn't meant for it to come out that way. He had wanted to say that she was smart, and that her hair was pretty. But he had ended up saying both facts in the same sentence, and now it came out with a totally different meaning.

Lydia suddenly stopped in her tracks and spun on him. "_What?_" she gasped. "What did you just call my hair?"

"Uhhh…blonde?"

Her palm collided with Stiles' cheek. It took him a few seconds to realize that he had been slapped, and a few more seconds before he finally felt the burning sensation. "Ow!"

Lydia huffed and crossed her arms. "It's not blonde, you stupid boy! It's _strawberry_ blonde!"

"Ouch," Stiles muttered, rubbing at his cheek. The impact on his face had made more blood run down his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. He swiped away at it, but accidentally made contact with his wound. He winced in pain, his eyes stinging with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Strawberry ."

Lydia shook her head and continued walking. "Strawberry blonde," she repeated, sticking her chin up in the air. "Come on, the faster I drop you off at the clinic, the better."

Stiles took a deep breath and tried to numb out the pain he was feeling, both physically and emotionally. Man, getting slapped was a painful way to be woken up from a reverie. And it was even more painful when the girl who slapped you was the girl you were reverie-ing about.

Aww geez, girls were weird.

**_A/N: _Don't you just love Stydia ahhhh! Tell me what you think and leave me a review, please!  
I'll try my best to update really soon. Christmas break is fast approaching anyway yahooo! Next chapter will be set when they are in 6th grade and just to hype you guys up, there will be some SHAKESPEARE oooh interesting **


	2. Poem --- 6th Grade

_**A/N: **_**Hi everyone! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update! School has been getting in the way aaah! And the universities I applied to have started sending out stuff…. :o I'm going to be heading off to uni soon! **

**Anyway, here's the next chapter! Set when they are in the sixth grade. And as promised, Shakespeare! Hehe **** Hope you guys enjoy! Don't forget to leave me a review! **

**Thanks to everyone who favorite/followed/reviewed! Really means a lot to me **

_**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, NOR ANY OF THE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE. The works of Shakespeare used in this chapter are taken from ROMEO AND JULIET (ACT II SCENE 1) and THE MERCHANT OF VENICE (ACT II SCENE 6)**_

* * *

"_Romeo and Juliet_?" Scott read aloud from the sheet of paper he was holding up. He kept the paper up in front of his face for a few more seconds before setting it back down on the lunch table. "I'm just glad we don't _all_ have to perform for the play. I can't act to save my life."

Stiles kept mum. He agreed with Scott on one point; that acting wasn't exactly his forte. But a part of him actually wanted to perform…to share the stage with Lydia.

Stiles picked up his fork and drove it straight into his buttered corn and carrots, scattering them into a colorful yellow-orange food firework. "I dunno," he began. "I was thinking of auditioning, actually."

Scott's eyebrows furrowed. "Auditioning?"

Stiles kept his head down and his eyes focused on his food. The corn and carrots were scattered all over his plate now, some even spilling out over the edges and on to the table. He made a mental note to clean up after.

"Let me guess, you want to play Romeo alongside Lydia who will obviously get the role of Juliet," Scott said slowly.

Stiles spooned mashed potato in his mouth, still keeping his head down.

"I knew it!" Scott exclaimed. "All for Lydia. It always is for her, isn't it?"

Stiles swallowed with difficulty and set his utensils down. It was useless to argue with his best friend who could pretty much read his mind. "Yes, I want to be Lydia's _Romeo_," he admitted, defeat evident in his tone. "I want to be her _Romeo_, now is there anything wrong with that?"

Scott said nothing for a while, but Stiles noticed a smile tugging at the corners of his best friend's lips.

"What?" Stiles demanded.

"Nothing," Scott said, shaking his head. "I'm just excited to see how this'll all turn out."

* * *

"Jackson got the part?" Stiles yelled. "JACKSON?"

"Calm down, will ya?" Scott said, hushing his friend. "It's not the end of the world, Stiles."

Stiles grit his teeth. "He always gets Lydia, _always_!" The thirteen-year-old tried to restrain himself, knowing that getting into a fist-fight with Mr. Popular-school-jock, Jackson, wouldn't help him or his situation. He resolved to sitting in the shadows of the auditorium as Lydia, Jackson, and the rest of the newly-chosen cast of sixth graders to stage _Romeo and Juliet_ were called onstage.

"Danny, as _Mercutio_; Emma as _Rosaline_…" Mrs. Marshall, their English teacher rambled on. Stiles sank down into his chair and crossed his arms with a huff. Scott chuckled from beside him.

"It isn't that bad, Stiles," Scott said. "Everyone who isn't cast gets to work backstage, away from the audience, the limelight, the attention."

"Yaaay," Stiles grumbled. He watched bitterly as Lydia crossed the stage, her hair bouncing with every step. _Strawberry blonde_, he thought. He remembered that incident three years ago when he had gotten distracted during a dodgeball game and fallen over, getting a nasty cut on his forehead. Lydia had brought him to the school clinic and made sure he was properly hydrated before getting back on the field. _Strawberry blonde_.

"Okay, so everyone else who wasn't casted, please go backstage and Mr. Davidson will be there to guide you through the crew work,"Mrs. Marshall announced. She flipped her orange scarf back and out of her face, sighing as she did so. "There is really nothing like working on Shakespeare productions!" she exclaimed dreamily.

Scott rolled his eyes and stood up. "Come on, backstage crew work for us."

* * *

Stiles was on his way out of the English classroom when he overheard the conversation.

"Mrs. Marshall?"

"Yes, Jackson? What is it?"

Stiles scrambled out the classroom and crouched down, so that he was still within earshot of Mrs. Marshall and Jackson.

"It's about the _Romeo and Juliet_ play," Jackson continued. He had an odd softness to his voice, which was unlike him. Stiles made a face in disgust. Jackson was obviously up to something Mrs. Marshall wouldn't like, and he was playing her to his side with his unusually nice demeanor.

Stiles peered around the edge of the doorframe. Mrs. Marshall was getting up and straightening her glasses to look at her student properly. "Yes, the Romeo and Juliet play. What about it, dear?"

Jackson scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I really enjoy playing the part of _Romeo_, especially with Lydia as my _Juliet_. She's wonderful, really."

Stiles gagged and drew back from the door. That part about Lydia was completely unnecessary for Mrs. Marshall to hear. But to his surprise, the English teacher agreed enthusiastically. "Oh Ms. Martin is an exceptional student, I honestly didn't expect her to excel onstage as well!"

"Lydia is skilled in a number of fields," Jackson added.

Stiles wrinkled his nose. Could Jackson just go straight to the point?

"Hey, Sti…Stiles? What are you doing?" Stiles had been so engrossed in eavesdropping that he didn't notice his best friend walk by. Stiles brought a finger to his lips to signal Scott to be quiet and motioned for him to crouch down too. Scott raised an eyebrow but knew better than to question Stiles' crazy antics. He followed suit and crouched on the opposite side of the door frame.

"Listen!" Stiles hissed, pointing to the closed door. "Jackson and Mrs. Marshall!"

Scott nodded and placed his ear against the closed door.

"Mrs. Marshall, I actually came here not to talk about Lydia, but about keeping my role as _Romeo_."

"Mhmmm, I already kind of assumed that, Mr. Jackson. What about your role? You are doing a fabulous job as well, if you aren't aware."

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I don't think I can keep it, actually. I have a game that falls on the same date as the play," Jackson said.

Stiles felt like he had just been hit by a rocket. Jackson wasn't available for the play…he couldn't keep the role of _Romeo_…that meant…

"So you're dropping your role entirely?" Mrs. Marshall sounded heartbroken. "But you have natural talen – "

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Marshall. The lacrosse game is pretty important to me too. We can probably find a replacement."

At the word _replacement_, Stiles shot up from his place and swung the door open, completely forgetting that Scott was behind it.

"Did someone say _replacement_?" Stiles said, striding into the classroom. Jackson's eyes narrowed into deadly black slits, but Stiles ignored him. "I think I could play _Romeo_ pretty well, Mrs. Marshall." He mimed pulling a fake tie and flashed his teeth.

"Lydia wouldn't want to share the stage with you, _Stilinski_," Jackson hissed.

Mrs. Marshall bit her lip and pushed a strand of white hair behind her ear. "Well, it isn't Ms. Martin's decision to make," she began. She approached Stiles and looked at him from head to toe. "I vaguely remember your auditions being…amusing," she told the boy.

Stiles grinned. "Ahh yes, I brought a boquet and Scott was my horse prop."

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember _Act II, Scene 1_ having any of those props…"

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed, flailing his arms around dramatically. "The theatre badly needs innovation in the modern era!"

"Stiles?" Scott groaned from outside the classroom. He staggered in, one hand on his forehead. "I was behind the door when you swung it open. Can't you be more careful next time?"

Mrs. Marshall was suppressing a smile. "Stilinski," she said. "I think we have found our understudy."

* * *

"Geez," Scott said, coughing. "Enough with the breath spray already! I'm a foot away from you and I already feel like I'm about to get an asthma attack."

Stiles shoved the bottle into his pants. "Oops, sorry man."

Scott coughed and shook his head. "Anyway, I don't think your kiss will be that long. It's just a stage kiss. It doesn't even have to be a real kiss."

"But I want it to be a real kiss!

"FIVE MINUTES TILL OPEN HOUSE!" someone from the backstage crew yelled.

Stiles scratched his head. "Open house? What's that supposed to mean?"

"They taught us some theatre terms on the first day of backstage crew rehearsal. I think it means that the audience can come in the auditorium already," Scott said.

Stiles straightened his lapel and smoothed back his hair. Scott eyed him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Well, someone's jittery," Scott noted.

"Am not," Stiles retorted. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.

"You know you can't bring a copy of your lines onstage," Scott warned.

Stiles shook his head and shoved the paper towards his friend. "Not my lines. It's a poem I wrote for Lydia."

Scott's eyes grew big as he reached the end of the paper. "Stiles…this is…"

"Really good, eh? What can I say? Lydia isn't the only one with numerous talents here."

Scott shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. "Actually, it kinda sucks, to be honest."

Stiles grabbed the paper back and stuffed it in the pocket of his pants. "Whatever you say. I'm still giving it to her. Or reading it to her. Or maybe I can even sing it to her. I could – "

"STILINSKI! You're supposed to be behind the curtains now!" Lydia was suddenly beside the boys. "Curtains go up in two minutes!"

She dragged Stiles behind her and walked them over to the set. She climbed up the stairs to the top of the balcony set, leaving him at the bottom. Stiles could vaguely hear her muttering about how stupid boys were and how they had no sense of discipline in the theatre.

All of a sudden, booming music played and the curtains went up. Stiles spun on his heels; wouldn't want the audience's first view of him to be his fabulous behind, right?

He grinned at the audience for a few seconds before he heard a voice from the wings hiss at him. "Your lines, Stilinski! Say your lines!"

"Oh, um," Stiles began, his voice echoing throughout the auditorium thanks to his clip-on microphone.

"_Can I go forward when my heart is here?_

_Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out."_

The rest of the first half of the scene went well. He shared the stage with Danny and another classmate. He remembered his lines, much to his surprise. However, when Danny and Fred exited and Lydia appeared on the balcony, Stiles mind suddenly went blank.

"Um….uhhh.." Stiles stammered stupidly. He knew he had a couple more lines to say before it was Lydia's turn. Screw that, he had a _bunch_ of lines to say! He glanced at the wings in a moment of panic. Scott met his eyes.

Scott sighed and brought his palm to his face. Of course he had to save his best friend from utter humiliation. He cupped his hands over his mouth and said:

"_But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?_

_It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." _

Stiles gasped and suddenly remembered the rest of the lines. He gave a subtle thumbs-up to his friend and recited the rest. He glanced up at Lydia in the set balcony. She had a scowl on her face but he wasn't sure why. He was doing a great job as Romeo, wasn't he?

_"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?_

_Deny thy father and refuse thy name._

_Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,_

_And I'll no longer be a Capulet."_

Stiles froze after Lydia said her next lines; now his mind was _completely_ blank. He glanced to the wings but Scott was nowhere in sight. Stiles took a deep breath and chewed on his lower lip. He wasn't nervous about the crowd, he was nervous of letting Lydia down. He couldn't humiliate her, not in front of everyone!

Two seconds passed, five, ten seconds of silence. Lydia glared daggers at Stiles. Then an idea hit him. He drew the crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. Getting down on one knee for dramatic effect, he began,

"Lydia, you are the apple of my eyes  
whenever you walk by, I always sigh  
Your hair is the most perfect strawberry blonde  
Its unusual color I am most fond

You are the most talented student at Beacon Hills  
You can draw, write, sing, and you never sound shrill  
Would you be my princess, and I your prince?  
Come on now, gimme a kiss"

The audience roared in laughter and Stiles got up to face the crowd. He grinned in cocky Stiles fashion and bowed before turning back to…Lydia? Where was she? She had suddenly disappeared from the balcony. He turned back to the audience, but he was too distracted to smile now. Where had Lydia gone? Did he do something wrong?

He ran off to stage right, but crashed into someone. "STILINSKI? HOW COULD YOU?" He felt a slap on his cheek. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?"

He put his hands out to give space between the violent human being and himself. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust from the bright stage lights to the dimness of being backstage. When he saw who was in front of him, he almost screamed. "Lydia?" he asked, dumbstruck. Her mascara had smudged into two horrifying lines down her eyes. "Lydia, what happened? You just disappeared – "

"You tell me what happened, Stilinski! You forgot your lines and you made them up and you… you embarrassed me out there!" Lydia sobbed.

"Lydia – " Stiles said, reaching out to her. She slapped his arm away and Stiles winced. Why did her slaps always have to be so painful?

"You are a _horrible_ Romeo! _HORRIBLE!_" she screamed.

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I promise!" Stiles said. He felt like his heart was being hammered and cut into a million pieces. His heart was breaking at the thought that he had just broken Lydia's.

"Wherefore, Stiles?" she sobbed before running off.

Stiles bit his lip. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around, coming face to face with Scott. "Did she just ask me where I was? Wherefore?"

Scott shook his head. "Wherefore means _why_, Stiles. She was asking you why you had to do that."

Stiles felt like curling up into a ball in a dark corner of the auditorium. "Because I_ love_ her. That's why I did that," he murmured.

Scott shook his head again. "Oh man, Stiles. Come on, let's get you out of here before Mrs. Marshall murders you. '_But love is blind, and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit.'" _Scott quoted.

"And what does that mean?"

"Love made you blind today, my friend," Scott said, slapping Stiles on the back. "Told ya this play would be nothing but trouble."

* * *

_**A/N: **_**Hi guys! Hope you enjoyed that chapter! Please leave me a review and tell me what you think! Next chapter will be set when they are in their ninth grade!**


	3. Intelligent -- 9th Grade

_**A/N: **_**So sorry it took me quite some time to post this next chapter! I got a bit caught-up in the holiday celebrations heehee**

**I have finished halfway through season 3 of Teen Wolf, yipeee! (Yes, for those of you who thought that I have finished the entire Teen Wolf series, surprise surprise, I haven't! I'm still in the process of watching the show.)**

**0*0 Season 3 spoilers for those who haven't watched 0*0  
That Stydia kiss when Stiles had his panic attack! Holy Wolfsbane, I DIED! I kinda had to pause the video just to scream my emotions out. **

**0*0 Spoiler over 0*0**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter, set when they are in the 9th grade. Hope you guys enjoy!**

_**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own Stiles, Lydia, or any other of the Teen Wolf characters. Boooohoooo sad**

* * *

Stiles knew something was wrong the minute he stepped in the classroom. He did a 360-degree scan of the four-walled room just to confirm his suspicions.

_Lydia._

Lydia was absent.

Stiles tried to wrap his mind around that fact. Lydia was never absent. Sure, she could be quite the noisy complainer during a biology lecture, but Stiles knew she didn't complain because she hated biology. In fact, he was sure she complained because she loved it, but the way it was taught at Beacon Hills High School was too slow for her. Lydia would never skip a day of school for no reason. She wasn't the irresponsible type of student, even if that was sometimes the image she gave off.

So why was she absent? Stiles couldn't even imagine Lydia _sick_. She just seemed like a girl too perfect to catch a bug.

Stiles settled into his usual seat for biology class. He sighed, seeing Lydia's seat empty. Then he huffed, berating himself for even feeling sad in the first place. _It's not like her being present today would change my chances with her,_ he thought. He had no chances with Lydia Martin. She was beautiful, intelligent, and popular. Stiles, on the other hand, was an average passing student and played for the school's lacrosse team…most of the time as a bench warmer. And okay, fine, he was pretty decent-looking.

Stiles grimaced. Being _decent-looking_ wasn't enough to get Lydia!

As if to accentuate that depressing point, Jackson and his friends walked in. Stiles groaned and put his head down on his desk. He couldn't stand to look at Jackson. Jackson was everything Stiles wasn't: popular, athletic- Okay, maybe Stiles was smarter than he was, but regardless, Lydia would obviously pick him over Stiles any day if given the choice.

Stiles decided that he was pretty okay with being the wallflower of Beacon Hills, but he would do anything to get Lydia's attention. Things were different when it came to Lydia Martin.

Why didn't he just give up? It was silly to keep chasing Lydia. He had been, for the past six years, but nothing good had ever come from it.

"Stiles, bro?"

Someone was shaking his shoulders.

"What?" Stiles moaned, sitting up. "What do you need, Scott?"

"Can I copy your biology homework? Kinda forgot to answer it."

Stiles pulled his notebook out of his backpack, not uttering a word. He handed it over to his best friend, who was staring at him, eyebrows knit together. "You okay, man?"

"Dying of acute heartache," Stiles replied. He clutched a hand to his chest dramatically. "Doctor Cupid gave me a month at most to liv – "

"Seriously, Stiles?"

"Yes! Acute Coronary Heartbreak is _very_ serious, Scot McCall," Stiles spat. "That's why it spells out ACHE; A-C-H….wait, it's lacking an E-word."

Scott rolled his eyes, turning away from his hormonal friend to scan the room. "Oh, this is about Lydia again? Am I right?"

"About Lydia not being here," Stiles corrected. "Oh, and about Jackson too."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "You're in love with Jackson too?"

"Hell, no! It's about him being the guy Lydia would definitely pick over me. I hope I'll be dead of ACH by the time they become a couple. I don't think I can take that pain."

Scott slapped his forehead. "Will you stop with the moaning? Listen, I've got a plan."

"Mhhhm, I'm listening."

"Lydia being absent today can actually be a stepping-stone for your relationship to grow."

Stiles scratched the top of his head. "Huh? How?"

"You should pass by her house and give her the homework for today."

"But Jackson – "

"Jackson has lacrosse training today," Scott interrupted.

Stiles crossed his arms. "For your information, McCall, _we_ are on the team, too. We have training this afternoon as well," he countered.

Scott looked amused. "Coach wouldn't notice one of his _benchwarmers_ missing."

Stiles exhaled. Maybe being a benchwarmer did have its perks sometimes. "I'm thankful to have a scheming friend like you, man."

Scott patted him on the back. "No problem, dude. Scheming plans, that's what true friends are for."

* * *

Stiles couldn't deny the fact that he was distracted the entire day. He had spaced out when his Math teacher called on him to recite, he had gotten a mental block during his Social Studies test, and had almost set fire to the Biology lab. He couldn't stop thinking – or rather, worrying – about Lydia.

So when the bell rang at the end of his last subject, he raced out the door (almost forgetting his backpack), and hopped on his bicycle.

It took him ten minutes to reach Lydia's place. He wished he could will himself to pedal faster, but his legs were already burning.

When the Martins' front door opened, Stiles offered the most polite smile he could manage to Lydia's mom. "Um…Good afternoon Mrs. Martin," he greeted. "I'm here to see Lydia, and – um, to check if she's okay? She was absent at school and, uh, I'm here to bring her some of the school work she missed today."

Stiles shifted on his feet uncomfortably, waiting for Mrs. Martin to reply. She looked so much like her daughter, it was unnerving. Her eyes, her smile…

"Well, isn't that sweet?" Mrs. Martin said, clasping her hands together. Stiles jumped, surprised by her voice. He had gotten carried away again, distracted. "I'm sure she'll appreciate your effort, um…"

"Stiles, Stiles Stilinski."

Mrs. Martin nodded. "Stiles, interesting name. You're the son of the sheriff? Yes, and if I remember correctly, you came over a few years back. You and Lydia were probably only in fourth grade or something."

"Yeah," Stiles gulped. Lydia's mom sure had a good memory.

Mrs. Martin stepped back to allow Stiles in. "Her room is still upstairs, hasn't changed. Second door to the left. I think she's awake by now. She wasn't feeling too well this morning after staying up the entire night to work on some project." Mrs. Martin shook her head. "Lydia pushes herself too hard sometimes."

"Don't' worry, Mrs. Martin. If she's asleep, I won't bother her." Stiles made his way up the stairs, skipping it two steps at a time.

He walked down the corridor and stopped in front of a pink door. He raised his hand and knocked. "Come in!" a girl's voice called.

Stiles took a deep breath and turned the door knob.

"Mom, is that you?" Lydia asked. She was wearing a knitted peach sweater and black shorts, her hair up in a rather messy bun. She was sitting at her desk, her back turned on Stiles. "Mom?"

Stiles cleared his throat and Lydia jumped up, surprised. She spun around and her mouth dropped open in shock.

"Stiles," Stiles prompted, grinning. "Just in case you're too shocked to remember my name."

Lydia frowned and shook her head, leaning back against her desk as if to cover whatever was on it. "Of course I know your name, Stilinksi," she said. "What...what the heck are you doing here?"

Stiles shrugged. He started to set his backpack down on the foot of Lydia's bed but Lydia waved her hands out. "Don't you dare put your filthy bag on my bed!"

Stiles backed up. "Whoa, okay, sorry. Um, I'm here to check up on you and bring you all the schoolwork you missed today."

Lydia pursed her lips and sat back down. Stiles noted that she _did_ seem rather stressed out. She had deep, dark circles under her eyes and she was rather pale.

"Are you okay?" Stiles finally asked. "Your mom said you weren't feeling well this morning because you stayed up all night working on some project. I didn't see you at school today, and I was kinda w-worr-ried about you," he stammered.

Lydia's face twisted; was she smiling?

"So…" Stiles cleared his throat. "Are you feeling better now?"

Okay, she was definitely smiling now. She took a moment before saying, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for your concern, Stiles."

Hearing her say his name filled his stomach with butterflies. He moved closer and sat on the side of her bed, so that Lydia was in front of him. He set his backpack down on her rug and pulled out his biology book. "Um, so...we have to read pages 253 to 270. It's about the - "

"Binomial Nomenclature?"

"Uhhhhh…."

Lydia rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, specie. Binomial System of Nomenclature," she stated.

Stiles swallowed, nodding slowly. "Yes, Binomial Nature. Yes, that's it."

Lydia laughed. "No-men-cla-ture, Stiles. Nomenclature. I thought you guys discussed it in class today? You still can't say it?"

Stiles felt his cheeks get warm. "I tend to m-mispronounce stuff when I get ne-nervous." Then, realizing what he had just said, he slapped his forehead. "No! That's not what I meant. I'm nervous right now, but you don't make me nervous. I mean, you do but - ugh! Forget I even said anything."

However, when Stiles turned back to face Lydia, she didn't seem to be paying attention anymore. Her eyes were glued to the biology book. Stiles huffed in relief.

"Hey, how did you know what the pages were about, without me having to tell you?" Stiles asked.

"I read the lessons in advanced, Stilinski," she said plainly. She flipped a page again, drawing her finger along the pages.

"But you don't need to study in advanced. You're smart enough to keep up with the lessons," Stiles blurted. Lydia looked up at him, the corner of her lips raised in an amused smile.

"You...you really see me that way? Smart?"

"I'd like to say _intelligent_. It sounds better."

In that moment, Stiles thought he caught Lydia blush. But she turned away from him so quickly, he wasn't so sure.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins allowed confidence to find its way to his tongue. "Why are you so ashamed of being _intelligent_?" he asked. Lydia's hand started trembling on the page, and Stiles reached out to cover her hand with his.

"I'm not _ashamed_," she finally said. "It's just that...all my life, people have always seen me as pretty, popular, blonde - "

"Strawberry blonde. There's a difference," Stiles interrupted. Lydia met his eyes and smiled.

"Yes, fine, _strawberry _blonde," she continued. "I've always felt so bad that people never realized that I was actually excelling in school. I still do aim for nothing less than a grade of A+ in all my subjects, but I don't let people know that I study just as hard as anyone. I'm scared that if they knew how much I valued my education...I'd lose my friends. And -" she gasped, suddenly stopping. She drew her hand away from Stiles and shook her head. "What am I even saying? Why am I even telling you this?"

"It's okay," Stiles assured her. He reached out and closed the biology book. Lydia didn't need missed school work; she was much too smart to fall behind in class after missing a day. No, right now, she needed a friend to talk to. Stiles was going to be here for her.

"It's not," Lydia said. "Now you know how I really work. You must...you must be revolted. I'm a lie - a fraud. All I care about is my outer image and popularity. All I care about is not being seen as a nerd or a geek and - "

"Stop," Stiles told her. "You aren't a fraud, Lydia Martin."

Lydia wrung her hands together. "Stiles, you should just go. Thank you for bringing me homework and everything, but I've told you too much."

"You don't trust me?" Stiles couldn't help feeling a bit hurt. Fine, he and Lydia weren't exactly the closest of friends, but they'd still known each other since the third grade. They'd seen each other grow up. They'd shared the same embarrassing moments at school, the same glorious ones. Sharing their childhood together, that was still something.

"I do trust you," Lydia said, taking a breath. "But now you probably won't see me in the same way anymore. You know how I lie to myself to keep my image." She stood up, but Stiles followed her.

"Lydia, I don't see you any different," he said, stopping her before she could force him out her door. "If anything, I appreciate your intelligence even more. You're pretty, yes, _and _you're intelligent. There's nothing wrong with being both."

Lydia closed her eyes. "I don't know, Stiles. Jackson -"

"What about Jackson?" Stiles barked.

Lydia opened her eyes again and stared at him, taken aback by his sudden harshness. Stiles shook his head. "No, sorry. I didn't mean to shout. Um, you were saying something about Jackson?"

"Well, he has this game on Friday, the first of the year. He told me to watch him, and I'd really love to… it's just that the Science Fair falls on the same day."

"Ohhhh," Stiles began, piecing it all together. "You were working on your Science Fair project last night, weren't you?"

Lydia nodded.

"Science Fair. Pick the Science Fair."

Lydia cracked a smile. "You're just saying that because you don't like Jackson."

"And who said that?" Stiles countered. "What's not to love about Jackson? He's the underdog black horse of the lacrosse team, he has good looks, he's -"

Lydia put her hands up. "Stop, Stiles. While you were blabbering nonsense, I got this crazy idea. You should turn in my Science Fair project under your name."

Stiles' breath caught in his throat. "Say what?" he gagged. "That isn't fair for you!"

Lydia shrugged. "You need the extra credit, don't you? If I get the extra points, God knows where they'll put those numbers. I've been getting an A+ in all my tests so far." Stiles was still trying to process Lydia's suggestion. "And besides, that way, I'll get to put my project to good use, _and _attend Jackson's game. Fair deal!" Her eyes were shining, and Stiles could barely recognize the sad girl he was talking to just a few seconds ago. He wasn't so sure what to feel. Lydia's true self was slipping away from his grasp again.

"O-okay. I think that's fine. But, hey, Lydia?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to know that you are intelligent. Be proud of it," Stiles said.

Then Lydia did something he didn't expect her to; she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thanks, Stiles."

He was too shocked at first to do anything, but he eventually wrapped his arms around her too, resting his head on hers. Her hair smelled like cinnamon, and her sweater was soft in his fingers.

"Thanks for being a _friend _I can count on," she whispered.

After everything that happened that day, hearing that sentence was a bittersweet ending.

"Thanks too, Lydia."

* * *

"Extra credit?" Scott asked his best friend. "How the hell did you get extra credit for biology?"

Stiles smiled to himself. "Oh, it's a long story." It was a very long story, indeed.

* * *

_**A/N**_**: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, though I'm scared that I might have veered a bit off-character when writing about Lydia in this chapter? I wanted to explore her character a bit more, because she rarely seems to open up on the show. **

**Please tell me what you think about this chapter! A review would really make my day! I'd also like to thank a couple of readers, **_**Katherine March, rings of purity, **_**and **_**The Pink Archer (even if Teen Wolf isn't her main fandom! hee hee!) **_**Thank you also for everyone who favorited and followed! You guys are what keep me going!**

**I intend my next chapter to be the last, but since I watched a bit of s3 already, I found more Stydia scenes that could probably be included here. Chapter 4 would be set during prom right before Lydia gets attacked and stuff. Do you guys think I should end this story there, or with the Stydia kiss in s3? I'm open to suggestions! **


	4. Formal -- Sophomore Year

_**A/N: **_**Hi everyone! I'm so sorry it took me forever to update! School, as usual, has been getting in the way of my writing. **** I'm also done watching season 3 of Teen Wolf and man, that was an amazing season! Still so sad about all the deaths, though. *cough* Allison WHY *cough* Anyway, here's chapter 4! I hope I did justice to the famous Winter Formal scene and Stiles' confession to Lydia!**

_**Disclaimer**_**: I don't own Teen Wolf, nor any character from the series. Boohoo. Some lines taken from S01E11.**

* * *

_Maybe another puff,_ Stiles thought, his hand held a bottle of breath spray mid-air as he contemplated on whether or not to do another spray. After a few thoughtful seconds, he shrugged and brought the bottle to his open mouth. "Gaaaaah," he coughed. "Overboard on the breath spray….phew. Gross. " He gagged and threw the bottle down on his bed.

Stiles had absolutely _no _idea how to prepare for an event like the Winter Formal. He would have asked for advice from his dad, but he knew the Sherriff had more important matters to attend to than sending his only son off to his first dance. Man, his _Mom_ would know what to do. She'd tell him what flowers to get for Lydia, what cologne Lydia would probably like to smell on him, how to ask her to dance with him…

Stiles sniffled. Okay, now was definitely not the time to get all sentimental about his mother. Sure, she was gone, but she wouldn't want him to be a crying, moping mess on the night of his first Formal just because of her! He tilted his head up to the ceiling and smiled. "I know you're there, Mom," he said aloud. "I hope I make you proud tonight."

He faced the mirror in his room and adjusted his tie. Did he look okay? Damn, he was nervous. He was freaking nervous. He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was bringing Lydia to the Winter Formal. Lydia; Lydia freaking Martin!

"I'M BRINGING LYDIA TO THE DANCE!" he shouted in a moment of excitement, pumping his fist in the air. He started dancing around his room, throwing his weight around awkwardly until his foot caught on some loose article of clothing lying around on his floor, and he fell humiliatingly on his behind. "Damn it," he muttered, brushing the dust off his pants. Okay, maybe he had to try calming himself down first before picking Lydia up.

But a part of him was still ecstatic. He was taking Lydia to prom! Finally, after years and years of anxiously waiting on her, he finally got to take her to the school dance! This was like, the turning point, the climax, the epiphany of his entire life! He was taking his long-time crush to prom! Wasn't that everyone's dream!

This was perfect.

Well, if you skipped the fact that he wasn't actually supposed to take her in the first place. It was Allison who had arranged that Lydia go with Stiles as a "punishment" for Lydia making out with Scott. Stiles huffed at the bitter memory. His best friend had the fucking nerve to make out with his crush! _Phew, okay, okay, calm down Stiles. It's over. You and Scott are best of buds and you've resolved the matter. It was all just because of the Full Moon. You know your best friend, he's a werewolf and he just got affected by the Full Moon. That's all. _

"What's done is done, and the good thing now is that Lydia really has no other choice but to spend the night with me," Stiles told his reflection in the mirror. He straightened his tie one last time, smoothed his hair down, and tried for a smile.

Yup. This boy was ready to pick his prom date up.

* * *

It took _forever_ for Stiles to finally ring the doorbell. He was pretty sure he had been standing outside the Martin's house for a good twenty minutes before he finally found the courage to put his hand to the doorbell button. He soooo needed another round of breath spray, and man, his armpits were sweating already. Gross.

The door opened and Stiles nearly jumped out of his man shoes (which are, by the way, the most _freaking_ uncomfortable shoes ever! He missed his pair of Converse shoes so badly right now). A middle-aged man with thinning hair appeared in the doorway, his mouth drawn into a thin line. Stiles couldn't decide whether he was smiling or blatantly observing his daughter's date.

"H-hi?" Stiles managed. He tried to smile, but his lips were shaking. God, the look in Mr. Martin's eyes were really unnerving. Stiles shut his own eyes, bracing himself. He felt like Mr. Martin was going to swallow him whole with that look.

"Dad?" Stiles heard Lydia call from inside. Immediately, his heart did a little somersault. "Is Stiles there?"

"Yeah," Mr. Martin replied nonchalantly. Stiles blinked. He hadn't expected such a _chill_ voice to emanate from someone who looked that…scary. "Oh, so you're the Stiles that Lydia keeps talking about."

Stiles felt his cheeks grow warm. Lydia talked about him? He hadn't expected that.

"Dad!" Lydia scolded. She pushed her way in-front of her dad and offered a smile at Stiles, who instantly felt like he was going to melt right through his very uncomfortable man shoes. "I've been waiting for you, you know. The dance starts at 7, and it's already 7:30. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Forget you? Of course not!" Stiles exclaimed. He drew out the bouquet he was holding from behind him and handed it to Lydia. "Um, I got flowers for you."

Lydia took hold of the bouquet, a restrained smile forming on her pink-tainted lips. "That's sweet," she murmured. "I'll ask my dad to put them in a vase for me," she said, handing the bouquet to her dad. Mr. Martin smiled at both of them and wished them a happy night before closing the door.

Phew, thank God he left. He was seriously making Stiles even more nervous.

"And, um, corsage," Stiles fumbled with the flower-bracelet as he set it on Lydia's right wrist. Lydia avoided eye-contact with Stiles, which he found rather annoying. Was there something wrong he was doing?

"You didn't need to, you know?" Lydia finally said.

Stiles raised an eyebrow up at her. "Didn't need to what?"

"Get me flowers, and a corsage, and gosh, did you ingest a bottle of breath spray or something?" Lydia asked.

"Oh, no, my breath just naturally smells that good."

"Okay, whatever. Stilinski, you do know that I never wanted to go to prom with you."

Stiles stopped mid-tying. He almost dropped the corsage. He suddenly felt the same way he had back in 6th grade when Lydia had screamed at him backstage for ruining _Romeo and Juliet_. But now, if possible, he felt ten times worse. Like Lydia had not only broken his heart, but scattered the pieces in a million different places so he'd never be able to glue them back together. "What?" he choked.

Lydia turned away from him. "I wanted to go wi-with Ja-ackson," she said quietly. "But I can't, because he's going with Allison. And it hurts, you know? To see your boyfriend go to prom with your best friend? Even if you know it's supposedly platonic."

Stiles' jaw clenched. "Yeah, actually I do know how that feels like."

Lydia turned on him suddenly, and it dawned on Stiles that what he had said came out rather wrong. "No, not like that. I don't have a boyfriend. I mean, to see the girl I've liked for so long – wait, scratch that – I've adored for so long, make out with my best friend. It's the most painful thing ever. Like, I've been betrayed on both sides."

Lydia eyes softened sympathetically but she didn't say anything. She took hold of Stiles' hand which was absently resting on her wrist, and they finished tying the corsage together.

Stiles offered a smile, even if he felt like his heart was still in a million pieces, scattered in different places around the globe.

* * *

Stiles pulled up in the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School, where numerous couples have already started to alight and walk towards the school gym. He hopped off his seat as soon as the engine of his Jeep shut off, and hurried to the passenger side to open Lydia's door. Lydia got off and smoothed down her dress. Stiles was about to offer his hand to her when he noticed the change in Lydia's expression as she straightened up.

"Jackson!" she said breathlessly. She eyed him from top-to-toe, smiling in her popular condescending manner. Stiles knew she was trying to hide how hurt she felt. "Well, you look handsome."

"Obviously," Jackson smirked. They locked eyes for a second and Stiles swallowed. He wanted to save Lydia so badly from this ordeal, but he wasn't in the right position to jump into a misunderstanding between girlfriend and boyfriend.

"It's Hugo Boss," Jackson said, smirking at Stiles. Stiles ignored him. Who cared if it was freaking Hugo Boss. He had freaking awesome man shoes….and he had no idea if they were designer or not. Screw that.

Jackson and Allison started to walk away, leaving Stiles and Lydia alone again.

"I don't care, I don't want compliments," Lydia grimaced. "I will not fall prey to society's desire to turn girls into emotional, insecure neurotics who pull up their dresses at the first flattering remark." She huffed, her brown curls bouncing off her face.

Stiles resisted the urge to stare…but oh God, he couldn't. There was just something about Lydia, something that made her so eye-catching even when she was fuming mad. "Well, I think you look beautiful," he said.

Lydia turned to him, her expression becoming vulnerable. It was almost as if she had heard the word "beautiful" for the first time. "Really?" She took a deep breath, her brown eyes wide-open.

_CARPE DIEM, STILINSKI! SIEZE THE DAY! _Stiles offered his elbow towards her and she took it. Well, who would have thought? One compliment didn't make her pull her dress up, but it sure did allow him to usher her to prom.

* * *

The next plan of action? Get Lydia Martin to share the dance floor with him. There were a bunch of couples crowding the dance floor already, and he knew he only had a matter of time before she finally gave up on him, and Jackson finally gave up on Allison, and the two of them would come running to each other like some romantic couple on the romantic shore of some romantic beach. Stiles was so _not _going to allow that to happen!

Speaking of the devil…wasn't that Jackson? Jackson and Allison were on the dance floor! He smiled in their direction, and Stiles was just about to smile back when he realized that Jackson wasn't smiling at _him. _Duh. He was smiling at Lydia.

He turned to Lydia just in time to see her wave back at him, a suppressed smile on her lips.

Stiles cleared his throat. Okay, he definitely needed to act. "You wanna dance?"

Lydia pursed her lips. "Pass," she retorted, letting her gaze run somewhere else.

Stiles wasn't going to allow this to happen. He wasn't going to let Lydia fall away from him again just because he wasn't as handsome, smart, athletic, or good-looking as Jackson. He wasn't going to let Jackson win this time.

"You know what? Let me try that again," Stiles said. He got up from his seat, his mouth pressed into a determined line. "Lydia get off your cute little ass and dance with me now."

Lydia stared at him, mouth open. She looked like she was about to either laugh, or get weirded out.

"Interesting tactic," she noted sarcastically. She looked thoughtful for a second, but pursed her lps again, resting her chin on her hand. "But I'm going to stick with no."

That was it. That was the last straw. In a brief moment of sheer determination and bravery, Stiles launched into his theater-worthy monologue. "Lydia, get up okay? You're gonna dance with me." At this point, Lydia leaned back in her chair, exasperated. But Stiles went on. He was _going_ to dance with Lydia tonight. "I don't care that you made out with my best friend for some weird power thing, I don't Lydia, I've had a crush on you since the third grade. And I know that somewhere inside that cold, lifeless exterior there's an actual human soul. And I'm also pretty sure that I'm the only one who knows how smart you really are. Uh-huh. And that once you're done pretending to be a nitwit you'll eventually go off and write some insane mathematical theorem that wins you the Nobel Prize."

Stiles finished, breathing hard. Had he really just confessed his feelings to her? He watched as Lydia's gaze softened, her eyes glinting with an emotion he had never seen on her face before. Not when he had comforted her at her house back in 9th grade, not when he had opened up to her just a few hours ago at the porch of her house.

It was the feeling of being understood. Lydia shook her head, probably in shock from everything she had just heard. Maybe she hadn't expected Stiles to be the person who actually knew her, inside and out.

"A Fields Medal," she finally said, smiling.

"What?"

Lydia got up and walked up to Stiles. "Nobel doesn't have a prize for mathematics," she whispered in his ear. "The Fields Medal's the one I'll be winning."

Stiles could barely understand anything she was saying; being in such close proximity of Lydia was distracting. He opened his mouth to say something, to save his dignity, to correct his wrong notion about the Nobel Prize, but his tongue betrayed him and no words came out of his mouth.

Lydia took hold of his hand, their fingers locking as she dragged him over to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Stiles felt like he was going to have a panic attack. He pumped his fist in the air. He could imagine himself re-telling the story of Winter Formal to his grandkids, "And that, my friends, is how Stiles Stilinski brought your grandmother to prom."

This was it! The highlight of his high school days. After forever of waiting, he finally got to take _the _Lydia Martin to prom. He deserved a round of applause, didn't he?

* * *

_**A/N: **_**I hope the ending wasn't too abrupt! I have a new writing record to share with you guys! I wrote this chapter in an hour and thirty minutes! Hehe, seems pretty long, lol, but to me, that's actually pretty fast. I like to let my writing sit for a day or two before I read it again to revise, and finally, to upload. But this one is fresh from the oven (I didn't revise that much), so idk if that's something good or bad? Oh well, tell me what you think in your reviews!**

**Next chapter will be about the Stydia kiss in S3! Yahooooo hope you guys stick around for that hehe **** Major Stydia up ahead!**


	5. Breathe -- Junior Year

_**A/N: **_**Okay, I admit this isn't one of the best stuff I've written. **** I really like one part of this fic though, but the rest….meh, I kinda expected more from myself. Haha, I hope you guys enjoy it, nevertheless! Here's the last chapter of Infatuation! (The famous panic attack scene of s03e11)**

_**Disclaimer: **_**I don't own Teen Wolf/characters/lines used in s03e14**

* * *

There were too many things going on right now. Between his dad's kidnapping, Scott suddenly joining Deucalion's side, and the mess that Jennifer was making, Stiles felt like he was literally drowning in a sea of troubles. _Stay afloat, _he told himself as he shut his locker, having finished grabbing all the books for his next class.

"Stiles," a familiar voice jarred him back to reality. Stiles spun on his heels and came face to face with Lydia.

The girl's eyebrows were furrowed in worry, deep-set lines on her forehead.

Fear gnawed at Stiles' stomach. He did not want to hear that something had gone wrong again, that someone had been killed, that Jennifer had finally made her sacrifice. For God's sake, Stiles' _dad_ was a possible sacrifice for Jennifer's psychotic offering scheme! If that bitch of a murderer went on with her plans, Stiles knew he couldn't survive the rest of his life as an orphan…

"Aiden's not texting me back," Lydia said and walked ahead of him down the stairs. Stiles followed her lead, grimacing. As much as the twins set him on edge all the time with their impulsiveness, he hoped that they were safe given their dangerous mission of looking for Jennifer.

Stiles glanced down the hallway, his nerves jumpy all of a sudden.

"Okay, well, maybe we could just we could go over there and –" Lydia began, but was interrupted by the buzzing of Stiles' phone. He pulled it out of the pocket of his jeans. "What?"

"Oh God." Stiles' stomach turned sour. It was Isaac; he bore bad news.

"What is it now?" Lydia asked, probably sensing his fear.

**ISAAC: **THEY HAVE CHRIS ARGENT!

Stiles tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs felt too small all of a sudden. "It's from Isaac," he stammered weakly. "Jennifer, sh – he, she has all three now. She took him. She's got all three now."

The feeling started in his fingertips; a numbing, icy-cold trembling. He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Jennifer had completed the quota for her sacrifice; she could perform the ritual _any time _now. She was ready.

Stiles dad, Scott's mom, and Allison's dad could be killed any time now.

Stiles, Scott, and Allison were probably only moments short of becoming orphans.

Stiles' hands trembled as he shoved his phone into his pocket. The room seemed to spin around him, the colors in his surroundings suddenly too bright.

"There's still time. We still have time, right?" Lydia asked. Stiles knew she was trying to sound reassuring for the both of them, but the only person she seemed to be calming down was herself.

Stiles tried to steady his breathing, but his lungs couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. He tried to focus on a point behind Lydia, but the room continued to sway and tilt dizzyingly.

He gasped for breath and tried to turn in the opposite direction, away from Lydia. _Oh God, not now. Please don't be a panic attack, not a panic attack please._

_Panic attack. _He hadn't had a full blown panic attack in quite some time. The last time he'd had a panic attack was during the time when his mom's death was still fresh in his mind. He had developed some sort of anxiety disorder as a result, but only Scott knew the details of his rough childhood. He'd known Lydia since they were both kids, (heck, he'd loved her since they were kids), but even she didn't know how bad Stiles' panic attacks were. And he didn't intend for her to find out.

He spun around but it just made his dizziness worse. He gasped again; he could hear his own nervous heartbeats echoing deafeningly in his eardrums.

"Stiles?" Lydia's voice was muffled almost as if she was shouting from underwater. Stiles tried to concentrate on her voice to anchor him back to reality but his vision was spinning madly. "Are you okay? What is it? What's wrong? Stiles!"

_Breathe, Stiles. Breathe. _

"I think I'm having a panic attack."

* * *

Lydia was close to panicking herself. Despite her knowledge and hands-on experience with first-aid (she volunteered at Red Cross because she knew how good those looked in university applications), she had no experience with panic attacks.

Yet here was her friend, gasping and choking, cold sweat running down his temples as Lydia helped him stagger to the locker rooms.

She ignored the stares they got from other students. She could feel their judging stares and hear their whispers as the pair made their way down the hallway, Stiles' arm slung over her shoulders as he could barely walk straight. Lydia ignored the people.

There was a time when she cared about people's opinions so much that she lived by them. She was the most popular girl in school, after all. She made sure her hair was always perfect, that she always had her lips in the perfect shade of red, and that she never repeated outfits. That way, everyone wanted to be her friend, everyone wanted to be invited to her parties, everyone wanted to be her.

But ever since prom night last year, she suddenly lost interest in keeping her image. Well, she definitely lost her image when she was attacked by Peter Hale and later turned up naked in the woods after going crazy in the hospital...that was a long story. In short, she realized there was more to life than keeping her image.

There were her friends, for one thing. She found out who her true friends were after that incident. She had gone to school a few days after she was found, and all she got were awkward stares from everyone. But somehow, she had found true friendship in Stiles, Scott, and Allison; people she had not expected to be "cool" at first.

They continued down the hallway until Stiles broke away from her and staggered towards the boys' locker room. Lydia followed after him.

Stiles' breathing was labored as he stumbled in the room, gripping at the lockers for support before finally falling into a pitiful heap on the floor.

"Okay, come on. Come on. Just try and think about something else, anything else," Lydia urged, coming to his side.

Stiles continued to hyperventilate, his face a sickly, splotchy color. "Like what?"

"Uh, happy things. Good things. Uh, friends, family," Lydia enumerated. _Family. Dammit! She shouldn't have mentioned family! Not when Stiles' dad was in very possible danger of getting brutally murdered tonight!_

Stiles looked like he was going to throw up.

"Sorry! Oh, I mean...not family," she muttered, cursing herself.

"Oh God," Stiles coughed.

It was an understatement to say that Lydia was on the verge of a panic attack herself. "Okay, uh, just... Try and slow your breathing," she told him.

"I can't," he coughed out in-between breaths. "I can't."

It broke her heart to see him like this. She knew panic attacks weren't _lethal _as long as you got the patient to breathe properly, but Stiles looked _broken._ She didn't know much about his family besides the fact that his mom had died of some form of dementia when he was very young, and he had been scarred by the untimely event. But she knew that Stiles was scared, no, _petrified_ at the thought of losing his dad, his only remaining parent. She knew that Stiles, in the midst of all the bad things happening in Beacon Hills, could not afford to lose his dad. He had been broken once; she didn't know how badly another death in his life would damage him.

She reached out and out her hands on either side of his face. His skin was feverishly warm and his eyes were glazed over as she got him to face her. "Shh, shh. Stiles, look at me," she told him. "Shh, look at me. Stiles."

_Get the patient to hold his/her breath. _Lydia remembered having read that in a medical book somewhere.

And she did just that.

She leaned forward and touched her lips to his.

Okay, fine, you could probably consider it as a kiss.

Instantly, Stiles stiffened against her. His whole body went rigid and Lydia could only hope she had guessed right. A kiss, right? A kiss would get Stiles to stop breathing. At least that's how Lydia reacted whenever she was kissed by a guy she liked; she stopped breathing for a second, enjoying the sensation.

He tasted of salt and mint at the same time, his lips soft on hers. She kissed him slowly, letting him ease up a bit. She was about to pull away when his mouth suddenly parted on hers and he kissed her back with the same minimal and careful force that she used.

It wasn't a rough or steamy kiss, definitely not one you would enjoy in a romance novel, but it was an intimate moment for the both of them. It was slow, and simple, leaving a burning sensation on Lydia's mouth when she pulled away.

Stiles stared at her and Lydia noticed that he wasn't hyperventilating anymore. They locked eyes, sharing silence for a few seconds.

"Ooh. How'd you do that?" He asked.

Lydia swallowed. "I, uh... I read once that... Holding your breath could stop a panic attack. So when I kissed you..." she trailed off and glanced down at the floor. Her cheeks were suddenly burning. Had she actually just kissed Stiles? _The _Stiles Stilinski, who she had known since they were both in third grade, who had acted like he had had a crush on her since then, and had always been desperately trying to win her affections since then? "You held your breath."

"I did?" Stiles kept his gaze on Lydia. He looked like he still couldnt grasp reality. Lydia found herself chuckling a bit. Stiles was adorable. He had always been adorable.

"Yeah. You did."

Stiles nodded slowly, still looking dazed. "Thanks," he murmured. "Really smart."

* * *

Had she really just kissed him? Lydia Martin, the girl who he had been crushing on since third grade? Had they really just kissed? Oh God. Oh my God.

Stiles felt like he was on the verge of _another_ panic attack. Damn, did it really take a freaking panic attack to be kissed by the girl of his dreams?

* * *

_**A/N: **_**I think I kinda rushed the ending huhu **** Or maybe I'm just overthinking. I've been overthinking a lot lately. Gaaaaaah. Well, I didn't want to go on with the rest of the lines because they started talking about the guidance counselor, and Stiles was pretty much okay already, and the lingering feels of the kiss didn't seem to affect the pair afterwards because they were too focused on the problems at hand – TEEN WOLF PRODUCERS PLEASE! We just want our fair share of Stydia huhuhu**

**Please tell me what you guys think! Your reviews mean so much more than you think haha **

**So, I'm basically done with this fic, and if you guys have any prompts for me or requests, just tell me in your reviews or PM me! I'd love to write them for you! **


End file.
